


Drabbles

by bonesmctightass



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bathtubs, Blood and Violence, Boys Kissing, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Kinks, M/M, Romance, Star Trek: AOS, Star Trek: TOS, Trek Drabbles, Triumvirate, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 23:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7822333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesmctightass/pseuds/bonesmctightass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are drabbles I've written based on prompts submitted to me by Tumblr users. If you'd like to submit one, hit me up!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lifeguard

Laying face up on a hard slab of concrete surrounded by a giant chemical bath and screaming children was decidedly low on Spock’s list of summer expectations.

And so was the pleasing view of the very handsome lifeguard looming over him, with gorgeous blue eyes full of relief and concern.

Somewhere in the distance his ears registered the sound of Leonard hollering at them to ‘get a room’. Spock was suddenly very glad that he had neglected to tell his friend about his inability to swim.

He’d have to thank the good doctor later for shoving him into the pool.


	2. Daddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones has a daddy kink

Being a doctor, Leonard did a lot of things without thinking. Certain triggers had his brain switching to auto pilot whether he wanted it to or not…

…Which is precisely how he found himself standing at a Vulcan dinner table staring hard at a bowl of greens.

“Daddy, if you would pass the salad it would be most helpful,” Spock had said. Both Sarek and Leonard had stood to do just that. The dining room went silent as every head turned to gape at them.

If looks could kill, the offending vegetation would be on fire.

And so would Leonard.


	3. Tribbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones and Spock get stranded on a derelict alien ship overrun by tribbles.

“This is all _Jim’s_ fault,” Bones griped, narrowly avoiding a tribble falling from a gaping hole in the ceiling. The remains of the Andorian ship they were currently stranded on was bursting at the seams with the inconvenient creatures.

“I fail to see how the Captain is at fault for our current situation.” Spock was perched atop a mountain of the purring animals attempting to fix their only communicator so they could contact Scotty. It was a transporter malfunction that landed them in this pickle in the first place.

“Well as I recall, it was _Jim’s_ decision to send the tribbles on the Enterprise out into open space!"

Bones was, for once, completely right.     


	4. Disney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard and Spock take a trip to Disney Land

For the first time in a long time, Leonard felt completely happy. He was giddy as a schoolgirl as he dragged Spock around the overcrowded amusement park.

“Spock, the parade is starting!” A hand holding an enormous rainbow lollipop jutted out in the direction of the main square, where animated movie characters were waving from atop colorful floats.

Leonard watched the spectacle with wonder-filled eyes, completely oblivious to the fact that Spock was watching him.  The large rounded ears perched atop the doctor’s head made him look even more endearing.

Spock made a mental note to return to the park for Leonard’s next birthday.


	5. Space Mountain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second drabble for Spones in Disney Land

“Come on, Spock. Don’t be such an infant!” Leonard was holding the Vulcan’s wrist in an unrelenting grip, dragging him further down the queue which lead to Space Mountain. Spock had grabbed onto the metal railing in retaliation, stubbornly refusing to let go.

“I fail to see how a machine composed of such a compromising structure constitutes as _fun_.”  The more Leonard tugged, the tighter Spock’s grip became.

“Do you _really_ think I would take you somewhere you could potentially get hurt? I’m a doctor, for fuck’s sake. Everything in the park is entirely safe.” After several moments of careful consideration, Spock relinquished his hold.  

“Very well. I will, as you say, _take your word for it_.”

And that was the first time Leonard had ever heard a Vulcan scream.


	6. Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones and Spock go to the beach.

“You are only making it worse."

Go to the beach, Jim said. It’ll be fun, he said. 

It was most definitely not fun.

"Damn it Spock, that hurts!” After walking three feet down the boardwalk, Leonard had gotten a particularly nasty splinter in the ball of his foot. As a result, he needed to be carried onto the sand like an overgrown toddler. It was humiliating. 

Spock was sitting on a beach chair with a firm grip on Leonard’s ankle to deter him from escaping. “Please stop squirming. You are making this more difficult than it already is.” Spock was trying to remove the offending piece of wood with a pair of tweezers. A feat made difficult enough by the blaring rays of sunshine, let alone Leonard’s incessant fidgeting.

"Then quit jabbing at me like that, it’s tender!” The good doctor was fuming at his own carelessness. He could just as easily rid himself of the pain in his foot, but Spock had insisted on taking over. He had a better vantage point, he argued. And he was right.

With each press of the needle sharp metal to sensitive skin, Leonard surged backwards to shrink away from the pain. This was getting Spock nowhere. He needed to try a different tactic. 

“Kiss me.” 

Leonard spluttered, stumbling over the words in his throat that didn’t quite make it to his mouth. Spock had a particular knack for rendering him speechless. “What?” He managed.

"I said _kiss me_."  Spock was gazing at him stone faced and expectant. The adoration in his eyes betrayed the indifference of his expression. 

It was unlike Spock to initiate romantic encounters, especially when they were in public settings. Leonard felt the heat creep up his face to the tips of his ears. He swallowed thickly. God, he did want to kiss those tempting lips. They were being offered to him on a silver platter. How could he resist?

Leonard scooted to the edge of the beach chair and curled his fingers around the back of Spock’s neck. He used the leverage to pull their mouths together in a gentle kiss and lost himself in the pleasure of it. It wasn’t long before he wanted more. When it came to Spock, Leonard was absolutely insatiable. He never wanted to stop, felt like he could kiss Spock forever.

Until a sharp pain in his foot pulled him out of his love drunken stupor.

“Ouch!”

Spock simply stared at him, smirking with his eyes as he held the pair of tweezers.

The splinter was pinched inside.

 


	7. Party Hardy

Two hours into the diplomatic soiree hosted by Starfleet Academy, Spock had drawn three conclusions: Firstly, no business was actually being conducted. Apparently this party was nothing more than a glorified excuse for the decorated Federation and interplanetary ambassadors to mingle. Secondly, his bondmate was well on his way to a distasteful state of intoxication and would need to be closely monitored. Thirdly, he was reasonably inebriated himself thanks to an impressive assortment of various chocolate confections which he could not resist partaking in.

Leonard McCoy sauntered up to him, drink in hand and a sprightly sway in his step. He held out a hand to his mate, unabashed and grinning widely. “Wanna dance?” Those bright blue eyes Spock adored so much were sparkling with a playfulness that was so unequivocally Leonard.

Spock took longer than strictly necessary to examine the offered appendage. Dark eyes roved over each callous, every scar, the perfectly manicured fingernails. “Come on, I know you know how,” Leonard goaded, rocking on his heels. “Don’t make me beg.” The glint in his eyes took on a haughtier edge.

With a resigned sigh, Spock set his hand over the one enticing him and allowed his mate to lead him to the center of the dance floor. Spock took advantage of Leonard’s intoxicated state and gained control of the waltz without a word of protest. They were a bit clumsy in their mutual drunkenness, but their movements were fluid and elegant nonetheless. A small smile lit Spock’s face as Leonard pressed his cheek to the hollow of his neck and inhaled deeply. His heart swelled with boundless affection as they moved together as one.

Unable to help himself, Spock slid his fingers underneath Leonard’s dress uniform. An overwhelming feeling of euphoria flooded the bond, mixing with a litany of others like pride, comfort, love. He slid his hands higher up the dip in Leonard’s back and an inexplicable ribbon of lust wrapped around their shared consciousness, intent on dominating them completely.

“Leonard,” he chided in as playful a tone as his Vulcan disciplines allowed. He could feel the brazen smirk form against his neck. Spock could’t ignore the publicity of their current setting and withdrew his hands as quickly as they entered with some reluctance. He felt a frown next.

“Hey. Don’t you want to take advantage of me? I’m all drunk and vulnerable. You’ve got a great opportunity in front of you,” Leonard whispered against a pointed ear. Spock faltered and Leonard took the break in movement to press himself flat against his mate’s chest. Soft lips played at the sensitized skin of Spock’s collarbone and he found himself thinking that inebriation was quite disobliging to his efforts of maintaining control.

“Very well,” Spock hears himself growl into soft hair and then his body is acting of its own accord. He grabbed Leonard by the wrist and hauled him off to the nearest utility closet to show Leonard just how much he appreciated him. 


	8. Academy Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue prompt: "You're drunk."  
> "No I'm not. You're just blurry."

It was supposed to be a light party. That celebration of surviving final exams sort of thing. Just a small get together, a little Academy shindig.

 

Well. That shit got out of hand  _ real  _ fast. It was hosted by Gaila and her sorority sisters. News of the bash spread faster than a case of Bolian herpes. Soon the whole school knew about it. The raging hormones alone were enough to flood the entire campus without the help of liquor. They rode the waves right out to the San Francisco bar scene and engaged in a pub crawl so legendary it was sure to make the morning news.  

 

Jim Kirk and his roommate Leonard McCoy were, of course, participating merely in support of their dear lady friend and were in no way smashed beyond all comprehension. 

 

“S’cuse me ma'am,” Leonard slurred as he stumbled into a parking meter. 

 

Okay, maybe they were a little compromised.

 

“You're really drunk,” Jim laughed, attempting and failing to sling an arm around his friend as if he were any better off. Leonard steadied himself on the side of the building nearest him and pulled his brows together in his determination to focus on exactly  _ which _ Jim was talking to him. 

 

“No I'm not. You're jus’ blurry. And stand still, damn it you're makin’ me dizzy moving around like that.” In their intoxicated haze the two had gotten separated from their merry band of drunks and Leonard couldn't remember where they were going, let alone figure out where they  _ were _ . 

 

“Bones. Bones. I got an idea.” If he were in his right mind, Leonard would have fervently shut it down before Jim even got the chance to vocalize what was on his mind. 

 

Instead, he simply said, “Lay it on me.”

 

Jim was laughing so hard at his own diabolical plan that he had to start and stop again three times before he was even able to get a word out. “Bones we should sneak into the hangar and take a shuttle out. I bet you fifty creds I could get us into orbit and back without anybody even noticing.” 

 

To Leonard's liquor laced brain, that sounded like the best idea he'd ever heard. “Bet you a hundred we don't even make it out of the bay,” he challenged, already starting off in the direction he vaguely thought was home. 

 

Sunday's news completely overshadowed the Academy's collective efforts at liver poisoning. The headlines were as follows:

 

LOCAL STUDENTS DRINK AND FLY. 

 

BLONDE MALE'S ATTEMPTS TO SEDUCE HIS WAY OUT OF FUI CHARGE UNSUCCESSFUL.

  
WHEN BROUGHT TO THE STATION, AGGRESSIVE ACCOMPLICE CRIES: “I'M A DOCTOR, NOT A DISTILLERY.”


	9. Infestation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim is reminded that Vulcans come from cats.

“Spock… Explain to me what I'm looking at right now.”

 

The sight of a dead mouse on the other side of the pillow was decidedly low on Jim's list of top ten ways to wake up. 

 

Spock, who was diligently filing reports, turned in his chair and fixed Jim with a level stare and a raised brow. “It is precisely what it appears to be.”

 

“ _ Why  _ is it in our bed?” Jim sighed impatiently. His expression softened when a wave of confusion flooded Spock's face, pulling his brows together and pursing his lips.  

 

“I found the rodent in engineering while obtaining a performance report from Mister Scott. I surmised that it must have found its way aboard the ship while we were docked at Starbase twelve and promptly dealt with the pest.” He paused and lowered the padd to rest on the desk. “Are you not pleased with my performance?” Spock ventured carefully. 

 

Jim looked down at the small creature then back at Spock, who seemed to have deflated on the spot. Pointed ears drooped solemnly and plush lips protruded in the Vulcan equivalent of a pout. The puzzle pieces were aligning in his head. Spock had rid the ship of this minor infestation and was presenting his spoils to Jim as a gift. 

 

With a warm smile, Jim rose from the bed and padded over to the desk. “I'm quite pleased. Surely that goes without saying.” He extended a hand and scratched behind Spock's left ear. “A very good job indeed, Mister Spock.”

 

Spock tilted his head into the touch, preening. “Thank you, Captain.”


	10. Cramped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good idea turns bad.

“This is bad.”

 

Leonard enjoyed being pressed up against his living embodiment of a wet dream as much as the next guy, but  _ this  _ was not quite what he had in mind. 

 

“You said that already,” Leonard snorted quietly, shifting uncomfortably in an attempt to dig his knees into something other than Spock's ribs.

 

“It seemed worth repeating,” Spock replied flatly in a tone that sounded suspiciously sarcastic. He was straining to hear the conversation taking place in the conference room directly in front of them. Determining what they were discussing could provide Spock with an inkling of just how long they would be trapped. 

 

Unfortunately, Leonard's groin pressing into Spock's stomach was proving to be particularly distracting.

 

Another grunt sounded from the human in his lap as Spock's hand brushed the swell of his exposed backside. “That's not exactly doing us any good now is it.”

 

“Need I remind you that it was  _ your  _ carelessness which lead us to this point.” Spock's resolve was wearing dangerously thin and he blamed himself for allowing his judgement to be clouded by his own burning arousal. 

 

The doctor's invitation for a rendezvous in conference room two seemed innocent enough at the time. After working for a tireless fourteen hours, a fleeting moment in each other's company seemed rather alluring. 

 

Except, of course, that Leonard had other plans. 

 

Which was exactly how they ended up in the closet half naked, limbs wrapped around each other's bodies and no hopes of escaping the narrow space until the conclusion of the business dealings. 

 

“How was I supposed to know Jim had a meeting in here?” Leonard complained quietly against Spock's chest, his science blues still hiked up underneath his arms and no room to smoothe it back down. “And by the way, you were awfully willing to participate so don't give me that high and mighty bullshit.”

  
Spock smartly opted for determined silence. 


	11. Groceries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard appreciates the little things.

It's the little things in life that really matter the most. All of those insignificant annoyances and menial tasks born out of necessity are often the most pleasurable experiences, completely taken for granted. After several years of marriage, Leonard has learned one thing:  _ nothing  _ is trivial. He's come to appreciate chores like grocery shopping. What most couples view as a daunting task best tackled alone with speed and efficiency, Leonard considers an opportunity for bonding.

 

When he walks into the store with Spock at his side, some people steal glances while others unabashedly stare. Leonard  _ wants  _ them to. Yes, he wants everyone to look. Spock is a beautiful work of art crafted with the utmost grace and elegance and Leonard brims with pride when they are seen together, wants everyone to know that they belong to each other. 

 

Leonard pushes the cart along while Spock takes his time surveying the available produce. He weighs each item carefully, turns them over in his hands and inspects them for imperfections. Really it takes him entirely too long to pick a damn vegetable and move on to the fruit but Leonard wouldn't have it any other way. While he watches Spock work, Leonard leans against the carriage with his head in his hand and a fond smile on his face. 

 

Even five years after their bonding everything is as it was when they first began their journey together. Sometimes when he watches Spock do something as simple as fold a shirt or brew a cup of tea Leonard swells with adoration so fully he thinks he might burst. 

 

Spock smiles subconsciously with satisfaction as he places his selections into the cart and Leonard falls in love all over again, hard and fast just like the first time. He reaches forward and captures Spock's hand as it lifts from the basket. Spock startles at the abruptness and lifts his gorgeous eyes to stare questioningly at Leonard, who presses a kiss to the upturned palm. It doesn't take more than a second for Spock to flush darkly but he doesn't utter a word of protest. 

 

They move on to the various displays of fruit, then begin their sweep of the aisles. While Leonard is busy perusing the nutritional information on a box of cereal, Spock disappears and he notices the absence immediately. When Spock returns he has something in his hands. 

 

“What’ve you got there?” Leonard asks and Spock holds it out to him. Nestled in his palms is a box of caramel filled chocolates. Leonard's sweet tooth is almost as legendary as his surgical prowess.

 

“You have been working quite hard this week. I believe you deserve a treat. As these are your favorite, I endeavored to order them from the store owner on our last shopping trip.” Spock replies casually and lowers the confections into the cart. And what he's really saying is  _ I love you too _ . 

 

“You are much too good to me,” Leonard beams and offers Spock two fingers for a kiss, even though what he really wants to do is kiss those plush lips. 

 

Happy to oblige, Spock returns the gesture. But instead of pulling away he leans ever forward until he's brushing his lips over Leonard's cheek in a tender kiss. Taken aback by the public display of affection, Leonard gapes and flushes crimson. Spock smiles gently and continues on down the aisle. 

 

These are the moments Leonard lives for. 


	12. Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy makes a house call.

“Bones. I have a problem. One that requires your expertise. I'm not in a position to move, so I need you to come up here as soon as possible.”

 

Very rarely does Jim Kirk request medical assistance.  _ Especially  _ when it is sorely needed. McCoy punches the button on the wall mounted communicator with urgency. “I'll be right there.” For McCoy's intervention to be outright demanded, the situation must be life or death. He enters the corridor at a run, alarming every crewman he passes. 

 

When McCoy reaches the Captain's quarters he enters his override code and barges in, expecting to find Jim nearly dying. And clearly something has gone horribly wrong because Jim's skin is rubbed raw, pink from head to toe. And McCoy can see very clearly because Jim is sitting on the bed in only his regulation briefs. He doesn't  _ seem  _ to be dying, but McCoy knows from experience that looks are quite often deceiving.

 

“What in blazes happened to you?” He rushes over to Jim's side and runs a tricorder over his body. Up close and personal, McCoy can clearly see that Jim's hands and feet have swelled. His skin was severely wrinkled, as though the moisture in his body were being drained from him. McCoy has never seen anything like it. 

 

He checks the tricorder when the scan is complete. The readings are inconclusive. Very strange. 

 

“Jim, you've got to tell me what happened. I need to know everything you've experienced since beaming back from the planet.” 

 

“Bones, you've got it all wrong. I just need–”

 

“Damn it, Jim,  _ I'm  _ the doctor! I'll tell you what you need. Now give me the rundown.”

 

Jim sighs and furrows his brow. “It was all very routine. I debriefed the landing party in conference room two. I went to the mess to have a meal and a cup of coffee before returning to the bridge to finish beta shift.” 

 

McCoy is writing down the series of events on his padd, making sure not to miss a detail. “Go on, go on.”

 

“After beta shift I met up with Spock to play a game of chess. I  _ won _ , by the way. Make sure you write that down.” 

 

“ _ Jim _ .” 

 

“After that I returned to my quarters and ran myself a bath. I read a few articles while I soaked, and then I started to daydream about nothing in particular. And that's when I fell asleep–” 

 

McCoy frowns, immediately tossing his padd onto the bed to abandon the process. “You fell asleep in the tub.”

 

“That's what I was  _ trying  _ to tell you. Look at me! I look like a crab without a shell. I can't be seen like this. You've got to do something.” 

 

Abruptly, McCoy stands and returns his equipment to the case. “You  _ fell asleep  _ in the  _ tub _ .” He repeated angrily. “You're telling me that you called me up here, scaring me half out of my wits, because you fell asleep in the  _ tub _ ?! I ought to skin your hide!”

 

Jim snorts. “Well anything sounds bad when you say it with that attitude.” 

 

“I'm leaving.” McCoy barks, turning on his heel and making for the door. 

 

“Bones!” Jim scrambles off the bed and follows after McCoy. “What if something happens? What if we have an intergalactic crisis? What if an admiral needs to speak with me? You can't leave me like thi–”

 

McCoy doesn't hear the end of that sentence. What he does hear, however, is the satisfying thud of Jim's head as he walks into the door closing behind him. 


	13. Never Have I Ever

Conference room three is alight with all manner of merriment. Precisely once a month, Jim gathers his senior officers for various team building exercises which, Spock has concluded, is nothing more than a glorified excuse to party well past the midnight hour. This meeting’s theme is Never Have I Ever, an evidently well-known Terran game meant to chastise the inexperienced and praise the thrill seekers.

Under normal circumstances, Spock chooses not to partake in these liquor fueled escapades if he can help it. Of course, the Captain can be very persuasive. This is exactly how Spock finds himself sitting cross-legged in a circle with his fellow crewmen, a drink in one hand and the other barred to his friends. He regards all five outstretched fingers as a perfect display of his untarnished dignity. Surely managing to navigate his life without having encountered sexual experimentation with a harem of women is something to pride himself on. To his left, he catches McCoy fold his index toward his palm whilst looking quite smug.

Now it is Sulu’s turn. He takes a long pause, carefully considering his options. “Never have I ever made out with a girl for longer than five minutes.”

Jim looks particularly exasperated by this new development. “You’re trying to make me lose on purpose!” He complains, curling his pinky inward. “All of you keep saying things you _know_ I’ve done!”

“It’s not anyone else’s fault you’re a manwhore.” McCoy interjects gleefully. “Perhaps you ought to consider keeping your tongue in your mouth whenever you see a pretty girl instead of your usual route.”

“Perhaps _you_ ought to consider shutting your—“

“Spock, you’re good at this game.” Uhura interrupts.

Suddenly all eyes are on Spock, then everyone simultaneously bows their heads to inspects his hand. Spock simply lifts a manicured brow and maintains a level stare.

“That’s because he’s painfully boring,” McCoy says dismissively as he gets up to pour himself another brandy. “You can’t possibly expect the Hobgoblin to have experienced any of these terribly human faults.”

Apparently, Sulu is not intent on accepting that answer. “Spock, surely you’ve kissed a woman?” He asks cautiously, hopefully. The room goes eerily quiet as the officers wait for an answer with baited breath.

“I have.” Spock says simply, not keen on divulging the details of those private encounters.

Encouraged, Sulu presses on. “Okay, you’re not a virgin to kissing. Have you ever made out with anybody?”

Spock decides that this moment is ideal for finishing his own drink.

“I think we all know the answer to that already,” McCoy comments, dropping back into the available space to Spock’s left. “He’s a bad kisser.”

Their petty bantering is commonplace and all of the ship’s officers are well versed in the intricacies of their heated arguing. But this snide comment, for a reason not yet known to Spock, cannot be let alone. Every so often, Spock gets an uncontrollable urge to put McCoy in his place.

“Would you care to test my skills for yourself?” He says to McCoy, who splutters and chokes on a mouthful of alcohol.

“You’re out of your head. I don’t need to kiss you to know I’m better at it than you are.” There is an obvious red tint beginning to color the doctor’s cheeks.  

“You would do well not to underestimate me,” Spock challenges, twisting in his spot to face McCoy properly. The logical, rational part of his brain is telling him to let this go. He actively ignores it. Before McCoy can protest, Spock grabs him by the front of his tunic and jerks him forward, crushing their mouths together.

McCoy grunts in surprise and drops his glass, spilling its contents onto the carpet. Calloused hands rise to fist in the material of Spock’s shirt, but McCoy makes no real attempts at stopping what he’s started. Spock opens his mouth and licks at the seam of tightly closed lips. Not more than a second later they’re opening, inviting Spock’s tongue in to wrestle with his own. The battle is short lived. Spock sucks the breath right from McCoy’s lungs. He presses forward, strong hands moving down to cradle the small of McCoy’s back while the other plants itself on the floor to steady them both. Spock doesn’t stop until he can catalogue the feeling of McCoy’s teeth against his tongue, the flavor of his mouth, the slide of hands into his hair, and commit it to memory for centuries to come. And when they’ve gone as long as they can they break apart to breathe and start again. Spock crowds into McCoy’s space until McCoy has no choice but to shift onto his back and let Spock follow him down.

A loud cough jars Spock back to reality. He presses one last lingering kiss to McCoy’s lips before returning to his previous sitting position, leaving McCoy to stare dazedly up at the ceiling.

“How long was that?” Spock asks, having lost track of the time himself.

Sulu can’t find it within himself to provide an accurate answer, so Jim takes control of the situation. “A little over seven minutes, I’d say.” He supplies helpfully.

Slowly, deliberately, Spock curls his thumb into his palm and waits for Jim to take his turn.  


	14. Liquor and a Bar Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy wallows in misery.

Every time things get bad and it seems like life can’t possibly get any worse, it most assuredly will. Today McCoy had the joyous task of attending a court hearing which ultimately decided that Jocelyn was the better parent. And sure, McCoy worked too many hours and drank just a little bit too much, but he loved his little girl more than his very life itself and no lawyer or judge was going to tell him otherwise. It didn’t even matter that Jocelyn won the house and half his money. The worst of it was the realization that he’d never get to see his little princess again. She’d make sure of that.

  
He doesn’t remember exactly when he got to the bar, or how he ended up on the floor of the god forsaken place, punch drunk and aching in all the wrong places. But there he was, laying in a crumpled heap and marinating in his own blood, staring blankly at the dingy, paint chipped ceiling. And the pounding in his head wasn’t quite enough to numb the pain in his heart. So he gets up, anchors himself to the counter, and tries again. The room is tilting a little to the left but that doesn’t stop McCoy from taking another swing at one of the men he belatedly remembers he compared to a Regilian bloodworm.

  
Predictably, he reunites with the warped wooden floor and doesn’t make much of an attempt to stop it. Spending all of his time practicing his God Given gift of healing has made him an excellent surgeon and an abysmal fighter. The pain is a little more distracting now, which is exactly what he was going for in the first place. Sated for the moment, McCoy is content simply to lie there until the urge to finish what he’d started motivates him to stand again.

  
A body falling heavily to the floor just beside him gives McCoy a jolt. The meathead he’d picked a fight with is out cold and his grunts had apparently run off. A man with blonde hair and blinding blue eyes is looking down at him sympathetically. No, wait, that isn’t sympathy. That’s pity.

  
“You again.” McCoy grunts and attempts to pull himself up again, shoving firmly at the stranger who tries to help him. This isn’t the first time this knight in shining whatever has swooped in to scrape McCoy off the floor. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” Blondie furrows his brows and persists, grabbing McCoy under the arm to pull him upright.

  
“I hate to see you do this to yourself.” He says. How poetic.

  
McCoy actually starts to laugh, despite his ribs protesting. “Why should you give a rat’s ass?”

  
The man actually looks hurt. “You know why.”

  
And he’s right. McCoy remembers, despite previous attempts to forget every word of that fucking conversation. Yes, he’s seen this guy many times before. Between surgeries, at lunch breaks, during late nights at the office. McCoy saved his life once, been elbow deep in his chest to put him back together again after he'd– No, no time to think about that right now. He’s not a surgeon anymore.

  
McCoy knows this man very well.

  
“Goddamn it, Jim, you don’t owe me a fuckin’ thing, alright? You’ve saved my ass enough times. We’re even, now, so stop showing your face around here!“ McCoy bares his teeth as he snarls every word and shoves a mug of beer off the counter just to hear it shatter. Jim doesn’t back up or look scared, doesn’t even flinch. Instead he stares at McCoy with such an intensity that he stops dead in his tracks.

  
“You’re coming home with me, Bones. Whether you like it or not.”

  
Then Jim is reaching forward and curling his fingers tightly around McCoy’s wrist and somehow drinking himself into oblivion doesn’t seem worth it anymore. With that single action McCoy feels all the fight leave his body. How is it so easy for Jim to make him forget about the hell he’d faced not hours before? The only thing McCoy can focus on now is the heat of Jim’s hand burning into his abused body, melting away the tension that he wants to torture himself with. A slight tug is all it takes to edge him towards the door.

  
This time, he’ll go willingly into Jim’s embrace. And maybe it won’t be the last.


End file.
